WARNING! Sappiness follows
Every now and then I Google the name of an old flame. Actually, to call her an old flame is kind of crass. She was my first true love.
We met in college. I was a senior, she was a freshman. It was the early stage of the Internet revolution and the computer labs on campus were full of curiousity seekers exploring what could be found on the information superhighway. Of the limited features available to us, the most popular seemed to be the ability to see who on campus was online -- and initiate a chat session with them. (Even if the person on the other end was your best friend sitting at the terminal next to you.)
When I logged on, I changed my screen name from the school-assigned "rp3" to "Mr. Right". Yes, it was self-serving, but it was a great icebreaker. Every now and then, someone would chime in and say, "Oh really?" and we'd chat for a few minutes and talk about life and that would be it. There was the nursing major, the swimmer, the gamer, even a few women from other colleges that could access our campus logon list.
Then one evening came the message, "My friends and I would like to know where you've been all our lives." That evolved into the usual banter and we chatted for a while and said good night.
But, something was different about her. Because the next time we were logged on at the same time, she started another conversation. And then I would start a conversation and it went back and forth for a couple of weeks before she asked, "When are we going to get to meet you?"
Never having been good with affairs of the heart, I didn't really know how to react. My self-esteem had been battered with so much rejection in high school, I really didn't have much experience with a member of the opposite sex actually taking an interest in me. So, I said maybe we could meet in your lounge or something. I lived in an on-campus apartment and she in the all-female dormitory known as "The Virgin Vault." So, we met there. It was four against one. I was a nervous wreck. She didn't say much and her friends grilled me. I figured it was the end of that.
I was preparing for a trip to Los Angeles. My college radio station had been nominated for an award and I was chosen to represent us at the ceremony. As I was getting ready to head out, the phone rang. "Hi, it's me," she said. "And I just wanted to wish you good luck in LA and have a safe trip."
And it blossomed from there. We began to see each other more regularly. She and her friends would visit me and my roommate. Me and my roommate would visit her and her friends. It was the awkward dance of a crush turning into something more serious. I resisted at first because of our age difference. I didn't want a relationship with a freshman because who knew where I would be after I graduated? But it all changed that night before Christmas break.
I was staying on campus because of my responsibilities with the basketball team. She was going home to be with her family. My roommate had already left for home. It was just her and I in my apartment. We watched some movies and talked until she said it was time for her to leave. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I gave her a hug and wished her a safe trip. And as we broke the embrace, she kissed me. I stood dumbfounded as she walked back to her dorm room. I was in love with her.
We talked on the phone and wrote letters back and forth. (People were still writing letters in those days.) And then when the spring semester began, we saw a lot more of each other. My studies suffered, but I didn't care. Because after so many years of watching other people be happy, I was finally happy too. We took road trips together. She took me to meet her folks. I saw her older brother in a dinner theatre play. She met my parents when they came to visit me.
She was my first love in more ways than one. I lost my virginity at age 21 on the floor of my apartment. I was her first as well. Sex became a very overwhelming part of our relationship. Since I had an upper bunk, I still laugh about how many times one of us hit our head on the ceiling while making love. I don't know if it was because it was something that was new to both of us, or if it was just the realness of what we had, but we made love a lot. At a late stage in our relationship she commented that I had taken her to bed before I had even taken her to a movie. She was right.
And then came May. I was graduating and had taken a job in Valparaiso. We knew we would not see each other much after that. We hoped there would be a way to slow time. But it wasn't. We made love one last time in that upper bunk the night before I graduated. (She hit her head this time.) Then we held each other and slept until the morning neither of us wanted to face. I felt her sobbing into my chest. Come to think of it, I guess neither of us slept.
The day I graduated, my parents took us out to lunch. She left her car in the parking lot of the arena where the ceremony took place. After lunch, I drove her back to get it. It was like a scene from a cheesy movie. Hers was the last car in the lot. We stood and embraced for what seemed like hours and promised that despite the distance that would soon be between us, we would try to make it work.
I was miserable in Valparaiso. My job sucked and being so far from her made me feel so alone. She would come visit me over the summer. We took the train to Chicago one weekend. Those few short days together made life bearable again.
Then came the offer. An opportunity for me to return to where I had come from. I would be in the same city with her again. I would see her every day. We could be together again. I took the job in a heartbeat.
The job sucked, but life was made easier knowing that I could pick up the phone and ask her how her day was. She and her friends would come over. She spent the nights with me often. It was good. But, I couldn't see it was collapsing.
She returned home for summer vacation and planned to spend the next semester overseas. We had agreed to throttle back our relationship, but I couldn't bring myself to explore. In fact, while she was gone, I found myself falling more in love with her. But perhaps, the love was comfort. I took her for granted.
I have purchased one engagement ring in my life. While she was overseas, I put a ring on layaway. Every two weeks, I received a check for freelance work. As soon as I deposited that money, I went to the store and turned the entire amount over to them. The clerks knew how excited I was to be able to have it paid for by Christmas, when she would return and I would cheesily present her with it.
But when Christmas came, she returned with no intention of wanting to continue our relationship. Her eyes had been opened to new opportunities that did not include me. I can't say that I didn't see that coming. Perhaps I was just fooling myself, thinking that giving her a ring would make everything better. That it would change her mind.
I admit, I wasn't doing very well in the boyfriend department and perhaps this was the break she needed to finish college and not be burdened by someone who was somewhat removed from her everyday experiences.
So, I never gave her the ring. I never returned the ring, either. I was too embarrassed to face those people after so many months building up to actually taking possession of it -- only to bring it back. I'm frankly embarrassed to admit what became of it, suffice it to say, I know where it is.
Over the ten years since this transpired, we had sporadic contact. I knew where she worked and the college alumni magazine told me she earned a master's degree. In one of her e-mails she told me that she travels a lot for her job -- something she always wanted to do.
I've moved a lot since we broke up. And every time I pack up an old place, I come across something from those days. Photos from the Smoky Mountains, greeting cards, a book she brought back to me from England, a picture of us at one of her sorority formals. There's a photo of us together at a dance my senior yearbook. There's a poem she wrote in a frame. Some of the memories have been easy to discard. But every time I find something, I Google her name to see if she's still out there.
A couple of months ago, I did it again. I was on classmates.com and looked her up in our college alumni section. But, it was different this time. Her last name was in parentheses. She's married now. And while I'm happy for her, I kick myself for not being able to be that guy. For not having the intelligence to realize when our relationship was failing and not having the common sense to make a concerted effort to change what was wrong with me in order to not be writing this now. I have spent the last ten years reliving the exact point where it all went wrong. It has made it impossible for me to move on out of fear of screwing up another good thing.
But there will always be the good memories of my first love. The card games, the road trips, watching Mad About You, missing my 8:30 religion class so I could spend 90 more minutes holding her. But they will have to be memories because she's married now and I've got to finally let her go. Which is easier said than done.
But, have you learned from this love lost so that it never happens again??
i am sorry for your pain... that is so sad.
first true love is always the hardest to get over.
Why am I reminded of 'Five for Fighting's' a 100 years. . .
;)
This falls under the 'could have's', it will always seem appealing but, as Daisy mentioned, we learn from these experiences. (((hugs)))
But he most certainly writes about it well. :smile:
What a very sad thing. We never forget out "first love"
I dont think it was ever your fault and I dont't think you could have changed the outcome. You were both very young and as we grow we change. Things change, times change, and so do people.
Sometimes we make the mistake of blaming ourselves and thinking we could have changed something or ourselves. Trying to change yourself, to fit in to her life or even to make her care for you, rarely works. Our high divorce rate proves.
The fact that you are still wondering about your "Unrequited love" tells me that you may compare everyone you meet with this girl and no one can live up to that.
10 years is a long time, maybe the next girl you meet , if you relax and see her for herself. you may just find your "true love"
I wish you lots of luck and love.
Oh my, that's so sad. Thank you for sharing with us.
Well said, Isabelle! :clap:
And to add, neither you nor she are the same people today that you were 10 years ago -- I believe as we continue to 'grieve' the loss of someone (or something), we often times only remember the good, possibly romanticizing the relationship.
You WILL find the perfect someone...when you aren't even looking. :wink:
WARNING! Sappiness follows
Ok, I'm confused, I thought a bare white ass followed? ;)
Quote from: Bratalie on November 14, 2006, 10:58:17 AM
WARNING! Sappiness follows
Ok, I'm confused, I thought a bare white ass followed? ;)
I guess I need to get an updated photo showing the effects a few weeks in the Florida sun can have on those tan lines.
By the way, thanks to everyone for their input. I don't really know why I posted this other than a need to get it off my chest and this seemed like the best place to vent. I haven't written anything that long in several years. I appreciate everyone who slogged their way through it.
I enjoyed every single sentence, C91. Thank you for sharing it with us...your passion is very apparent.
I really enjoyed it too....brought a little tear to my eye, but enjoyed it nonetheless. :smile:
It's never to late.
Why do I feel like I should be singing some corny late 1950s song?